by Michael Gos
Looking For Patterns
LBJ Grasslands, Texas
I have very few memories before the age of three. One of the earliest memories I do have, however, is the discovery that I hated cities and loved wild places. I never thought about why I felt that way. When you are four or five years old, that just is not a part of your thought process.
As I got older, those feelings intensified. By and large I was an obedient child, but when I was in trouble, it was almost always because of wild places. By the time I was seven or eight, I would head out almost daily into the few acres of woods that remained near my childhood home. It was the only place I felt comfortable. My parents didn’t share that comfort.
When I went away to college, weekends were often spent camping at a state park. Even in the Indiana winter, I would take my tent, along with lots of newspaper to place under my sleeping bag, and head out to the wilds. Still, I never questioned why. It was just the way the world was.